He Lay in Wait, Watching...

Considering the following prologue to (or Chapter 1 of) a mystery/suspense novel:

He lay in wait, watching.  Soon she would arrive home, smelling of jasmine--that same scent that his mother had favored.  Perhaps she'd just be back from a shopping trip (God knows she loved to shop), and her arms would be laden with bags.  She'd be juggling the bags and her keys, not paying any attention to the shrubberies to the side of the house, which was shrouded in darkness.  All he'd have to do is creep up behind her and push her into the house once the door swung open.  He had no worries about being able to catch her in time.  Lean and lithe from his years a track-team champion, he knew he'd be able to cover the necessary ground in no time.

    After an hour her new Saab pulled up--the sporty red model he'd watched her purchase, but only after she'd driven a hard bargain with the salesman.  That was Lina Lorenz for you--she got what she wanted and made you feel as if she was doing you a favor by making you give it to her.  But tonight it was Lina's turn to give....

If I get one more manuscript with this type of opening, I am going to scream.

I think I know whom to blame: James Patterson.  He pulled this off like the pro he is in the first chapter of his breakthrough book, Along Came a Spider, in which the very brief Chapter 1 presents exactly this scenario and ends with the revelation that the watching lunatic/murderer was also the person who kidnapped the Lindbergh baby.

Wow--what an opening it was at the time.  And the book followed through on its promise, with those trademark short Patterson chapters alternating between the point of view of Alex Cross and the villain he was pursuing.  The plot and its resolution are simply fantastic, and the novel should be studied as a case study of the perfect pacing for a suspense novel.

But that was what--15 years ago now?   And the time has come to add to the "he lay in wait, watching" opening to my list of massively overused plot devices, right next to recurring nightmares and sassy, independent-and-sarcastic-but-with-a-heart-of-gold heroines.  It seems like every other manuscript I have seen lately opens with a variation on this theme--the murderer is waiting in the shrubberies, or in the storage closet of an office building, or in an unused out-building on an estate...the list goes on and on.  It is almost enough to make a poor editor paranoid, assuming that a crazed murderer could emerge from a corner at any time, brandishing a carving knife and some sort of kit that will allow him to eviscerate me and rearrange my body parts in creative ways that symbolize his psychosis.

The problems with the "he lay in wait, watching" opening are many:

• The device has become so stock, and so overused, that an opening of this type sends a signal that you aren't a very creative or dynamic writer.  First chapters have to grab the reader and draw him or her in.  You don't want your readers thinking, "Ho hum, I've seen this before, about a million times."
• This type of opening clangs a very loud bell that dings "Serial killer, serial killer."  Now, I may be alone in this, but to me there's a difference between a good mystery novel and a good thriller, and I usually think of serial killers as being the stuff of mass-market thrillers.  If you're writing a traditional mystery, there are many better ways to signal that killer is known to the victim, and vice versa.  This is part of what made those old Gothics by the likes of Dorothy Eden, Victoria Holt, and Velda Johnson so effective: The heroines knew their lives were in danger, and the sense of menace built slowly but surely. 
• While there are many effective ways of writing a novel, I usually don't like opening a book with backstory.  That can be effective in a prologue, in the hands of a skilled writer.  But many inexperienced writers use the "he lay in wait" prologue to signal the fact that the book is a murder mystery.  The structure goes something like this: First 3 pages: killer lies in wait; Next 47 pages: an introduction to the hero/heroine, along with full backstory and range of emotional issues; Page 50: Crime hinted at on pages 1-3 finally happens.  The problem is that this structure completely delays the story and turns the reading experience from novel to autobiography.  Now, of course the best writers combine character development with story, but we mustn't lose sight of the fact that the best mysteries balance plot and character simultaneously.

I do try to give all the manuscripts/proposals that cross my desk a fair shake, but lately I'm finding it difficult to read any further when I encounter this type of opening.